


May The Dread Wolf Never Catch Your Scent

by dragonagefanatic



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Dimension Cannon, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Magic, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonagefanatic/pseuds/dragonagefanatic
Summary: Velathari Lavellan never thought her life would turn upside down when she was sent to spy at the Conclave, but it had. Her mother had always told her stories about the Dread Wolf, and how she was cursed to be in his way. She tried her best to protect her little girl, but in the end, she failed. Now, Velathari must begin to trust new people, forge new friendships and fall in love with the man she hated.Follows the DAI cannon story, with my own twists and turns, some post Corypheus, Trespasser and then post Trespasser. Enjoy!
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fenris/Female Hawke, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Zevran Arainai/Female Mahariel
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue if people still read Solavellan fanfics, but this fandom hit me hard and after I read everything that I liked, it is my turn to shine. What I keep searching for is a Solavellan fic that keeps to the cannon story while adding things of their own. Chapters that contain smut will be marked with this *, but this is a slowburn, so don't expect them too soon. At least not the smut between Solas and my Lavellan.

#  **Chapter One**

  
  


When Solas had first met her, he held a knife to her throat.

He still remembered the chill that passed through his body when her amber eyes opened, scared and confused, as she rushed out of his arms only to faint again. The mark flared bright green in the dark dungeon and then subsided, drawing a whimper from her lips.

She bore the vallaslin of Dirthamen, a pale color contrasting with her dark skin - Solas wondered if the girl was born with white hair if it had been dyed with magic.

A week later she led them through the Hinterlands, sometimes stopping in her tracks to pick up elfroot or listen to the plight of a villager, more often than not begging Cassandra to put a hold on their mission and help. She retrieved an elf’s wedding ring from their dead husband, delivered a healing potion to a dying mother and brought flowers to a grave when the deceased husband couldn’t.

The last task before stopping at Redcliffe to meet with the mages was hunting rams for meat and blankets. She wasn’t much of a hunter, Solas noted, but her magic was the best he had seen in a long time. He didn’t care much for her - as kind as she was with other people, they did not seem to get along, mostly fighting about the Dalish.

Velathari had stopped talking to him altogether, but she still took him on missions as he was the only other mage at Haven, for now.

“So tell me, Frosty,” Varric began speeding behind Velathari. “Anyone you miss back in your clan?” he said with a wiggle of his brows.

Velathari chuckled politely. “I miss everyone, Varric.”

“No, no, I mean  _ miss miss _ ,” he added.

“Oh,” she said, a blush creeping on the tip of her ears. Solas found it interesting, that an elf specialized in ice could blush. “Well…” Velathari began, but did not continue.

“Well?” Varric nudged her. “Come, Frosty, give me something! The hero must have a love interest and I don’t see you forming one here. Or are you?”

Velathari laughed. “I am not interested in anybody, at least not in Haven.”

“Ain’t you?” Sera pushed. “I see the looks you and Cully-wully exchange, yes? Fireballs, or…” she trailed off with a smirk. “Only balls.”

Velathari’s eyes widened and she grew even more red. Solas shook his head and continued to walk behind her, holding onto his staff and pushing ahead. He did not care for useless gossip, but a part of him longed for her answer.

“Firstly, I work with ice, Sera. Varric doesn’t call me Frosty for nothing. Secondly, there is  _ nothing  _ going on between Cullen and I. Not that it’s any of your business what I do in my private time,” she muttered under her breath and Solas could have sworn that she stole a glance at him.

Varric and Sera burst into laughter. He arranged his duster and walked faster to keep up with Velathari.

“Back to my question: was there anyone in your clan?”

“Are you writing about me, Varric?”

“Maybe,” the dwarf said with a smirk. “Answer the question, Frosty.”

She was quiet for a while - Solas could hear his own heart beat in his chest as he too waited for her answer.

“There was,” it finally came. “A long time ago, but now there isn’t. So my answer is no, write that down somewhere lest you forget and make up a tragic story.”

“Don’t you like tragic stories?”

She grinned. “I am a sucker for them.”

The three of them kept talking as they hunted for rams, Velathari raising ice blockades to stop them from running off as Sera and Varric hunted them down. She laughed with them, joked with them and felt carefree in their presence - Solas couldn’t help but feel offended. Did she despise him that much, only throwing him half glances to make sure he didn’t fall behind?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Redcliffe’s walls.

Cassandra led them forward, and even though Velathari was the Herald of Andraste, she rarely assumed the position. When Solas had asked why, on the so few occasions that they had spoken to each other, she had said that she never felt like a true leader, not when it came to the Inquisition.

“But you were trained to become a Keeper,” he said.

Velathari scrunched up her nose. “Indeed I was, but I didn’t say I enjoyed it.”

And that marked the end of their discussion.

Violently pulled out of his thoughts by a templar attack, Solas casted a barrier around them as the others rushed into the thick of the battle. He noticed how with a swing of her arm Velathari casted ice wards around her, swinging the ice from her staff at the templar attacking Cassandra. The woman raised her shield and pushed at her enemies.

A sudden shriek pulled at his attention, making Solas turn around only to see how a templar caught Velathari by her long hair, pulling and raising his sword, ready to strike her down. Solas heard someone yell  _ no!  _ as he fade stepped through the templar, mind blasting him away. The templar managed to pull a chunk of Velathari’s hair, but he was on the ground, back down, giving Solas the perfect opportunity to shove the pointy end of his staff in his throat.

“Thank you,” Velathari said, rubbing at her scalp. “I would’ve died.”

“You’re welcome, Herald,” Solas answered coldly, turning his back on her and walking away. He thought he heard her whisper  _ prick  _ under her breath, but he did not bother to ask her to repeat herself.

“What was his name?” Varric asked as they entered Redcliffe.

“Whose name?” Velathari tried to dodge his question.

“Come on, Frosty, you know who I am talking about. The elf from your clan.”

She snorted, a weird sound coming from her. “Zatris, if you really need to know.”

“And what went wrong?”

“We- by the Dread Wolf,” she cursed, making Solas cringe internally. Whenever she brought up his other name, either a curse or a warning, he would always have the urge to roll his eyes and correct her, but he usually kept quiet. “Did you just pull out a notebook?”

Varric shrugged, holding a quill between his gloved fingers. “I need the spicy details.”

Cassandra got closer to them. “Is it a romantic story?” she asked, hope in her voice.

Solas rolled his eyes, Sera surprisingly sharing his sentiment.

“No, it’s a rather sad one that I wouldn’t like to tell. You never talk about Bianca,” she jabbed.

Varric cringed. “Point taken,” he said, putting his notebook away. “I will get it out of you.”

“Good luck,” Velathari said, a smile playing on her lips.

Three hours later, Velathari was obviously flirting with a Tevinter mage called Dorian. He was almost green with envy at the fact that everyone seemed to make friends with her so easily, even Sera. He never expected a dalish fanatic and an andrastian elf to become friends, and yet it happened.

After Dorian warned them about the magister Alexius, Velathari decided that they would rest in one of the camps near the crossroad before picking up and heading back to Haven. Varric and Sera had retreated to their tents, Cassandra had her nose buried deep into Swords&Shields and Solas had resigned to sketching in his notebook. It was filled with sketches he kept private, from the Orb that had fallen into the wrong hands, courtesy of his decisions, to the different types of plants, which one to eat and which one to avoid. He sketched many things that he came across, from rivers to animals and insects, he found himself sketching Velathari.

She was playing with the mark, touching the green scar on her hand, with a frown plastered between her eyebrows - Solas removed it from his drawing. When he flicked his eyes up at her to get yet another detail, his heart stuttered as he found himself making contact with her amber eyes.

Velathari smiled at him - as her kind nature pushed her to do - and resumed her tracing of the mark.

“May I ask you a question, Herald?” Solas found himself talking.

“Ask me?” she questioned, pointing a finger at her. “Of course.”

“Is your hair magicked to look like that?”

Velathari laughed before quieting herself when she remembered others were sleeping. Cassandra threw her a curious glance, but with a blush she returned her nose in the book. Solas felt ridiculous and he swore he could feel himself grow red - she was laughing at him.

When Velathari noticed the frown on his face she cursed under her breath and managed to stop her laughter.

“Excuse me, that was rude. No, Solas, it is not magicked. Surprisingly, I was born this way.”

“Interesting,” he muttered and resumed his sketching. Solas tried not to look at her too much.

“Indeed it is. Do you know what the Keeper said about my hair?” When Solas grunted a whispered  _ hmm?  _ Velathari continued her story. “Keeper Deshanna said that when I was born Fen’Harel visited me in my sleep and spooked me so bad my hair turned white.”

Solas raised his eyes from the notebook. “Why would the Dread Wolf scare a child?”

She shrugged. “He is the Dread Wolf, after all. Does he need a reason? But don’t mind the story, it’s just that - a story made for laughter.”

“You dalish folk seem too keen on your stories, especially about the Dread Wolf.”

Her cheeks grew red with anger. “You are impossible,” she said, exasperated. “I tell you a funny story about my clan and somehow you turn it around, making it about how horrible the dalish are,  _ again _ . Well, excuse me if I don’t stay to chat, Solas, as your company is not a pleasure. I should never have taken advice from Cullen,” she muttered more to herself as she got up, leaving the camp.

Solas was bewildered at her sudden outburst.

Cassandra threw the book away, rose from the ground and started following her. “Herald! It is dangerous out there, alone!” She threw daggers at Solas as she rushed after Velathari.

Solas had the nagging question on his mind for days: what advice had Cullen given her?


	2. Chapter Two - Velathari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velathari and the group make their way back to Haven with the mages from Redcliffe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know yet what is going on with this chapter, I promise they will be more tied together after a while. For now I am just trying to establish the relationship between Solas and Velathari and sort out the feelings between them.

Chapter Two

Velathari trauma bonded with Dorian after the events at Redcliffe.  
She had come to the decision that requesting the mage’s aid would be the best solution, even though Cullen vehemently advised against it. She held his advice close to her heart, but it was not a matter of discussion. After traveling forward in time, she was left shaken as she witnessed the deaths of her friends.  
The death of Solas, as his eyes were blighted by red lyrium, burgundy colored fog pouring out of them, buzzing around him.   
She saw Leliana and Cassandra die doing their duties - she wondered why did Solas sacrifice himself, as he owed nothing to the Inquisition. On the back of her horse, she kept looking at him, scared that when he looked back his eyes would be red again, and each time they made eye contact she was relieved to see that it was not the case.  
Velathari could only hope that Solas would attribute the blush on her cheeks as anger - as the coolness of the Hinterlands was out of question.  
She remembered the day he had flirted with her as if it were yesterday - it was deeply engraved in her mind, as hard as she tried to get rid of it.  
Velathari had flirted almost with everyone from the Inquisition, with the exception of Cassandra, Vivienne and Leliana - something in their look told her they would not appreciate her obvious remarks. Bull would usually flirt right back, though it was clear that he had no feelings for her and the same could be said about Varric. Sera would joke about tasting her peach, hoping that it would be juicy, while Blackwall choked when she playfully invited him to her quarters and she realized the mistake when the next day he kissed her hand and called her my lady.  
She had never flirted with Blackwall since.  
Cullen was a whole other story. She felt safe in his presence, despite him being a templar and her a mage, but he felt more like an older brother rather than a lover - she never dared to flirt with him, as it felt wrong.  
Solas, well, he was another story.  
She had been asking him about himself, about what made him study the Fade. He told her about the village that he grew up in, how he found refuge in the Fade.  
“Did spirits try to tempt you?” she questioned as she leaned against the stone wall behind her.  
His answer seemed like poetry. “No more than a brightly colored fruit is deliberately tempting you to eat it. I learned how to protect myself against more aggressive spirits and how to interact with the rest. I learned how to control my dreams - there was so much to explore.”   
He told her about how he needed to explore more of life to find more of the Fade.  
“Is that why you joined the Inquisition?”  
The corner of his lips barely lifted in a smile - it was a rare sight to behold. “I joined the Inquisition because we are in terrible danger. If our enemies destroyed the world, I would have nowhere to lay my head and dream.”  
“I wish you luck,” she sincerely answered.  
“Thank you,” Solas said, surprised by the innocence in her voice. “In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life to find more of the Fade.”  
“How so?”  
“You train your will to control magic and withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit.” His words had made her heart jump and whatever he said afterwards was lost on her. It was the first time her stomach churned in what some called butterflies because of Solas. She had appreciated his studious nature and realized that he was smarter than most, more cultivated, but it had never occurred to her that she might find these things attractive.  
He stood there, with his sentence finished, waiting for her answer.  
“Indomitable focus?” was all that she managed to mutter.  
Solas breathed out of his nose in amusement. “Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine the sight would be… fascinating.”  
After that, Velathari’s heart would always leap when she came across Solas. She would walk by his study place outside of Haven, sit close to him at the tavern, honestly, she did anything that would be in his near proximity. Velathari found him infuriating at times, condescending even, but she could not stop the flutter of her heart or the churn in her stomach.  
She needed to talk to someone about it, and Cullen was her first choice. He advised her to be more open to him, tell Solas about herself, share things with him in hopes of connecting with him, but it was useless. All of her attempts were shot down by his cold attitude.  
She beat herself up at the fact that her heart still hammered when she saw him.  
“Hey Solas!” Sera had called, bringing her horse closer to his. “Droopy-ears-says-what?”  
“Excuse me?” Solas answered, drawing a snicker from Velathari.  
“Ugh, you’re no fun!”  
Solas had turned to face Velathari, making her heart hammer again as she broke eye contact. The tips of her ears were red and she did her best to cover it with her hair - unfortunately, her left side had been shaved off, so there was not much to do.  
“Ready to open up some more, Frosty?” Varric asked as they pushed forward.  
Velathari rolled her eyes. “You really aren’t giving it up? We talked about it at least a week ago, Varric.”  
“And you still didn’t give me an answer. Even Chuckles is more open than you are.”  
Velathari frowned. “That’s not how you are getting an answer out of me. I have no desire to compare myself to Solas,” she said, loudly enough so that she could be heard.  
“Then what do you desire?” Dorian had asked playfully.  
“A hot bath,” she moaned. “A hot bath and hot food. A massage, maybe.”  
Varric laughed. “Human life agreeing with you, Frosty?”  
“What, do you think dalish elves don’t do massages? We do them naked, under the moonlight.”  
“That would be a sight for sore eyes,” Dorian flirted, hugging her tighter from behind. Velathari had said that there was no way in the Void that she would ride on the back of the horse.  
She winked. “I bet it would.”  
Solas scoffed behind them, making her head snap at him.  
“Is there a problem, hahren?” she asked, using the term mockingly.  
“Children playing war is my problem, da’len,” he answered, clicking his tongue at his horse, moving forward.  
Varric suppressed a chuckle when he noticed how Velathari grew two shades redder. She flicked the dwarf off and continued their walk in silence.


	3. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a failed attack on the templar camp, Velathari is taken prisoner, making Cullen go on field to find her. Solas tries to sort his feelings for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really happy with this chapter, small progress between Velathari and Solas, though those two will not become friends yet.

Chapter Three

Solas noticed how the days passed and Velathari didn’t seem to request his help while going to the Hinterlands or the Storm Coast - she took Dorian with her. He did not know what to make of the pang in his heart, but he told himself that it was nothing personal, that she also resumed to leaving Cassandra behind and taking The Iron Bull with her.  
So when Bull, Varric and Dorian burst through the gates of Haven without the Herald, Cassandra nearly tore them a new one. Solas himself felt panic creep up his spine and settle into his stomach as the three of them relayed what had happened.  
They were on their way to find the templar hideout and wipe it clean, when Velathari got caught in the middle and managed to get herself kidnapped by the templars. The three of them had to retreat because of their injuries.  
Solas saw red.  
“You let them take her?” he said through gritted teeth before Cassandra even had the chance to open her mouth.  
Dorian looked the most apologetic. “She fade stepped in the middle, even further into the battle than Bull was! Fasta vass, I swear she thinks herself a warrior.”  
“And you,” Cassandra snapped at Bull. “You are the size of a whole army. How is this possible?!” Iron Bull did not answer - he held a rag infused with elfroot at the gash on his head. “We shall make a rescue party. Varric, come with us and show us where these templars reside.”  
Cassandra sighed and left, flexing her fingers - Solas soon followed.  
“Seeker, take me with you.”  
She didn’t stop moving as they sprinted into the Chantry. “Very well, Solas. I will take some other soldiers along with the Commander. We leave in an hour.”  
Solas tended to Varric’s wounds, making sure that he was able to take them at their final destination. He was the guilt that resided in the dwarf’s eyes as he hopped on the horse, adjusting himself in the saddle.  
“Do you think they killed her?” Varric asked Solas.  
The thought made his heart turn and squeeze, but before he could open his mouth to answer, Cassandra did it for him.  
“For your sake, I hope not. If she’s dead, Varric, so are we all. The Breach is not closed yet and she was our only salvation. Pray that she is not dead.”  
The threat hung in the air, but it felt bitter on Solas’ tongue. He hadn’t thought about the breach since the news of the Herald’s kidnapping reached his ears - he only thought about her safety and what she must have been enduring at the hands of merciless templars. He wondered if Cassandra even cared for the Herald, or just about the mark.  
When Cullen came, riding on his armored horse, with a lion helmet on resting on his head, they galloped forward. Four days it would take them to reach Haven, but they barely stopped to sleep. When the horses could no longer ride they left them behind with a small group of soldiers and pushed forward on foot.  
Everyone was tense.  
Cassandra kept flexing her fingers around the hilt of her sword, Varric’s eyes were trained on the dirt, Cullen would often take off his helmet, clench his jaw and run his fingers through his golden locks before putting the helmet back on again. Even the soldiers who were not close to the Herald were quiet.  
Solas did not know how to feel - he wasn’t by any means close to Velathari. They were acquaintances that could barely keep a conversation without fighting about the dalish, and yet he found himself holding his staff tighter and fidgeting with the jaw bone around his neck.  
“Commander, we should plan our assault,” Cassandra said, after the scouts came back and reported everything that they knew about the templar’s camp. Varric and Solas stood close to them as they loomed over the makeshift map.  
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “We could send a group of soldiers to flank from this part, drawing their attention and then advance from the gate. There’s plenty of us to eradicate them all, if needed,” he said, resting his hands on the hilt of his sword.  
“Very well, Commander. Solas, Varric, you come with us after the Herald. We move, now.”  
Solas’ heart beat faster as they waited for the signal to advance. When the battle cries could be heard from the other side of the camp, surrounded by wooden pikes, the small group that Cassandra had gathered advancing.  
Solas concentrated on keeping barriers up for him and the others, while fade stepping out of the way and keeping to the back line, sometimes conjuring fire runes underneath templars. The material of their robes caught on fire and soon they were ash.  
Almost everyone there had been killed, but still, there was no sign of the Herald. Solas could feel his throat clench as the grip on his staff tightened. He kept a calm exterior, as everyone else was panicked enough.  
When they couldn’t find her inside the camp, the Commander lost his temper.  
He grabbed a half dead templar by the collar, ripping his lion helmet off and choking the life out of the man. “Where is she?” he yelled, shaking him. “Where is she?!” he shouted louder, as the man choked.  
“He needs his voice to speak, Commander,” Solas said, as no one had intervened.  
The Commander threw Solas a glance - they never spoke before this, even though Solas saw him often enough at the tavern with Velathari, or playing chess near the troops he commanded. Still, Cullen let go of the templar.  
He coughed and rubbed his neck. “Who?” he managed to rasp out.  
The Commander punched him, his metal glove splitting the templar’s lip. “The Herald!”  
“Herald? Ah,” he said, realisation dawned on him. “You came for her, of course.” He spat a clot of blood on the ground near Cullen’s feet. “Bitch escaped before we could catch her. One moment she was in our arms, the next she left ice behind her as she teleported away.”  
“Fade stepped,” Solas corrected him. “Teleportation is impossible.”  
The Commander turned back to face Cassandra, completely ignoring what Solas had just said. “Great,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face, smearing blood. “Where would he even begin the search?”  
Cassandra shook her head. “At least she is safer in the Hinterlands than she was here. We should split up,” she suggested. “A group should go at the Crossroads, a group in Redcliffe and another one back at Haven.”  
The Commander nodded in agreement. “You two, with me,” he said, pointing at Solas and Varric. “Cassandra, you take a smaller group and head towards Redcliffe.”  
“Maker guide you,” Cassandra said and left with the troops.  
They walked in silence for a while, Cullen’s steps being harsh and hard on the ground, leaving prints behind him. Solas swore that he could see smoke coming from the Commander’s ears, but he kept quiet, holding his staff close and leaning on it while walking. When they picked up their pace, Solas would attach it to his pack and adjust his walking speed.  
Soon enough they found themselves at the Crossroads, where Cullen went to speak with an Inquisition Soldier.  
“We should have stayed,” Varric muttered, leaning against a wall of rocks.  
Even though Solas agreed and wanted to yell at the dwarf, he knew that it was useless and that he let his feelings guide him. So he leaned on his staff and tried to reassure Varric.  
“You did what was right. You were all badly injured and maybe you would have died if you wouldn’t have left. It was a hard decision, but it was the right one.”  
Varric opened his mouth to argue, but then they heard Cullen shouting and his fast footsteps running towards a refugee’s house. Solas glanced back at Varric, but soon they followed the Commander, rushing inside the house.  
There they found Cullen, hugging a bruised Velathari. He held her tight and she held him back, her fists clenching around the furs of his armor.  
“It seems Curly cares more than he let on,” Varric whispered, not wanting to interrupt the moment.  
“So it seems,” Solas muttered bitterly.  
When the Herald raised her eyes, she let go of Cullen and rushed towards Varric, drawing him in another embrace.  
“You are well,” she gasped out, hugging him tighter. “Bull?” she asked and Varric nodded. “Dorian? Varric nodded again. Velathari got up from the ground and looked into Solas’ eyes. “Solas,” she breathed out. “You came for me.”  
He scoffed. “Of course I did, Herald. We cannot let you die, especially at the hands of templars.”  
She offered him a smile, one of the rare ones, even though her lip was split open and her cheek bruised.  
“How did you manage to escape?” Cullen asked as she leaned on him, walking towards the closest camp, which was placed along the lake, near a waterfall.  
Velathari grunted as she limped forward. Solas stayed behind, his eyes examining every inch of her body, trying to file out the damage. Her makeshift robes were torn, and bloodied bandages were placed over every wound. She walked with a limp, from what Solas had concluded was an arrow wound.  
“After stupidly stepping in the middle of the fight, surprisingly they didn’t cut me down. They took their sweet time to bring me back to the cells, and when their grip loosened so they could tie me up, I… fade stepped through them and… froze them.”  
Solas’ brows shot up - this was a talent he hadn’t seen since the days of Arlathan. “What?” he asked. “Froze them?”  
Velathari turned around and nodded, biting her lip. Solas tried to avert his gaze from her lips, but it wouldn’t move. “I don’t know how I did it. I just… did.”  
Cullen smiled. “I’m glad you are well, Herald.”  
Velathari scoffed as he placed her near a tent. “Stop calling me Herald, Cullen.”  
Solas eyed the Commander as they exchanged another smile, which brought a bright blush into the Commander’s cheeks. Solas did not know what to make of it - he saw how Velathari practically flirted with everyone around her, but somehow it felt different when she was around the Commander. He did not know if her feelings were genuine or if it was the same as everyone else.  
He did not know why he even cared in the first place.  
The tips of his ears blushed as he placed his pack and staff in a tent, heading back to Velathari. “May I?” he asked, sitting next to her and pointing at her injuries. Velathari nodded and let him unwrap all of the bandages that the villager had tied around her. She flinched when he first touched her and it made Solas frown, a knot forming in his throat. He wondered if his touch was that repulsive.  
The Commander sat next to them, placing his lion helmet near him, along with his sword.  
“I have never seen you on the field,” Velathari told him. “Your helmet is… fitting,” she said with a chuckle. Solas’ hands tightened around the bandages.  
The Commander laughed and rubbed his neck. “Yes, well, if someone has the power to bring me on a mission, that is you, Her- Velathari,” he corrected himself. Solas examined the wound from the arrow head, placing his hand over it and starting the process of healing. The Herald grunted when her skin started to mold back together, but she did not complain.  
“Chess when we return?” she asked Cullen.  
“Wouldn’t miss it. I should… I should go,” he said. “Let you rest. I’m going to send a raven to Cassandra, tell her that you are safe and sound.”  
Velathari smiled, making him blush and blabber something that Solas could not make out before he left, stumbling around his feet.  
“You shouldn’t lead him on like that,” Solas commented before he could stop himself.  
He felt Velathari grow stiff as he worked on another wound.  
“What?” she managed to breathe out. “I am not. Cullen is a dear friend.”  
“Does he see it that way?”  
Velathari blushed and held his gaze. “I don’t see how that concerns you.”  
Solas began to wrap a bandage around her leg, ripping it with his teeth. Velathari bit her lip and turned her head.  
“My apologies, you are right.”  
She sighed and placed a hand over his, making Solas stop in his tracks. There was a bolt of something that crossed through him and made his blood rush in his ears. When he dared to glance back up, with his lips parted, she was looking at him with those amber eyes.  
“Solas,” she sighed his name and he wished she would again. “We got on the wrong foot,” Velathari began. “I am friends with everyone in the Inner Circle, well,” she began to trail off, “with the exception of Vivienne, but that doesn't matter. As I was saying, I am friends with everyone, even Sera, and I know you don’t hold the dalish dear and near to your heart, but the fact that I am dalish should not make you hate me. Give me a chance at least.”  
Solas frowned, staring at her in disbelief. “Hate you?” he managed to speak. “I don’t hate you, Herald. In fact, one could say the same about you.”  
She surprised him by laughing, a blush creeping on her cheeks. “Solas,” she said his name again, laughing as if she had an inside joke with herself. “I could never hate you.”  
Velathari was still holding her hand on his.  
“How about this?” she asked. “I realized how important healing spells are. Teach me, hahren,” she said, with no hint of sarcasm on her voice.  
Solas found himself smiling against all wishes. “Very well, da’len.”  
Velathari let go of his hand and the electricity from his body vanished. He returned to tending to her wounds and she struck a conversation with another soldier from camp.  
Solas glanced one last time at her and shook his head.  
He did not know what to make of her, or her attitude.  
I guess I'll see soon enough, Solas thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to go for more angst rather than fluff and that will be noticed in the next chapter, as they spent more time together. I like the idea of enemies to lovers with Solas and Lavellan, as they both have their diferences. There will be a lot of angst and angry kisses, before the fluff of the game. Enjoy ;)


End file.
